The Wild Rose of Kilgannon (25 page)

Read The Wild Rose of Kilgannon Online

Authors: Kathleen Givens

Tags: #England, #Historical, #Scotland - Social Life and Customs - 18th Century, #Scotland - History - 1689-1745, #Scotland, #General, #Romance, #Historical Fiction, #England - Social Life and Customs - 18th Century, #Fiction, #Love Stories

BOOK: The Wild Rose of Kilgannon
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"Madam," he said. "I am delighted to make your acquaintance. I did not anticipate seeing you here tonight. You are as lovely as
I’d
heard. What an agreeable surprise."

"Thank you, sir." I tried to smile. "It is a surprise."

He smiled a slow smile that did not reach his eyes, and I stared, feeling like a mouse the cat had just discovered. The Duchess rescued me by returning to my side and moving me away. I turned from one last look at Edgar DeBroun's saturnine face. And found myself in front of Janice. Once a close companion, she was now even more uncomfortable than I, and I smiled genuinely, if maliciously, watching her struggle. Poor Janice, I thought. To recognize me as an old and dear friend could be hazardous to her social ambitions, and yet here I was at the Duchess's elbow. Janice must be most discomforted. To my right, Jonathan Wumple bowed. I groaned inwardly as I faced my old acquaintance.

"Madam," he said, "as beautiful as ever. What a delight to have you back with us despite your recent troubles."

"Sir, you are gracious to welcome me," I said, surprised.

He simpered. "How could we not, when Her Grace threatens us with transportation if we are not kind to you?"

I forced a smile.

"Lord Wumple," said the Duchess
with
asperity, "I have done no such thing. I merely said that the Earl and Lady Mary are my dear friends and you must treat my dear friends with courtesy."

Jonathan gave a bark of laugh in reply. "What a pity your husband is not here to be treated with courtesy." With a sidelong glance at me, he turned to Janice. "You remember our Janice, Mary."

I met her eyes and I smiled, holding my hands out to her. "Janice, how lovely to see you again."

"Mary," she said, but did not take my hands. I folded them at my waist. Her tone was strained, her eyes anxious. In her position I would have embraced my old friend for all the world to see. How I wish Becca were here, I thought, as Janice's sister Elizabeth gaily greeted me.

"Mary," she said, "it's lovely to see you again. Did you know that Jan and Lord Wumple are engaged? They have set the date at last." I looked from Jonathan to Janice, who frowned at her sister.

"What a perfect match," I said.

"I agree," said the Duchess, her eyes dancing. "Just as I thought you and Lord Kilgannon were perfect for each other, both so very handsome and intelligent and well-bred." She looked at the engaged pair. "Yes, our Miss

Janice and Lord Wumple are perfect for each other. Very well suited." The Duchess was already moving me on. "Come, Mary," she said and I followed.

The next hour was a blur of faces, some cautious, some cold, several most gracious to me. It was the Duchess's doing, I knew, but some of these people had been at my wedding and remarked on that, as well as Alex's situation. A few were bold enough to express dismay at the harsh treatment of the Scots and to tell me they believed that Alex and the others who had not run to safety in France had been ill used by both the Stewarts and the English victors. I was quite surprised. For English voices, so often disdainful of anyone else, to be raised in protest of cruel treatment of another people, let alone the uncivilized Scots, was truly amazing. I smiled, agreed, and asked them to speak to the Court on behalf of the prisoners, knowing that they never would. Still, it was comforting to at least hear the sentiments, and my smiles grew less forced. The Duchess left me alone for the first time that evening, assuming, I supposed, that her chick had had enough time under her wing. Louisa and Randolph, who had never been far away, were in the group behind me, the men discussing horses as usual. I stood on the edge of their group, not drawn into the conversation, until I felt a hand on my arm and turned to find Edgar DeBroun at my side.

"A word with you, madam," he said, taking my elbow and leading me away, his head lowered to my ear so that only I might hear him. "I must speak with you," he said. "Will you come with me?" As I hesitated he paused and turned to me fully. "Madam, it is about your husband."

The room faded from my view as I turned to him, keeping my tone quiet, but not caring who watched or overheard. "Sir, you will soon
try
my husband for treason. You have very
recently
found a dear friend of his guilty—"

He put a finger to my lips and spoke quickly. "
Exactly
. Please come with me, madam." He took my hand and led me through the crowd.

 

I
WAS ASTONISHED
AT HIS ACTION, BUT WHEN HE CONTINUED
to lead me from the room I followed peaceably. We went down a hallway and into a sitting room. He bowed again and when he raised his eyes to mine I felt a thrill of fear. That this man wanted something from me was obvious, and that he was
very
pleased was apparent as well. I wondered where Randolph was.

"Madam," said DeBroun. "I wish to convey to you my sorrow at your situation. It is imperative that you understand my position. We in the court have a responsibility to uphold the law and the orderly transition of the Crown. When the Jacobites rebelled they threatened this transition and therefore had to be quelled. Lawlessness, whatever its form, cannot be tolerated, and all possible sources of rebellion must be destroyed with the most effective means. It is imperative that we thread a fine line between justice and reprisal." He paused and his eyes ran down my body. And up again, lingering at my low neckline. He glanced at the door. "My message is simple. I will arrange for you to see your husband. And in return you will ask your husband a simple request. I am sure you will find a way to convince him. He could not remain unmoved by you. Be sure to tell him you have met me."

"What do you wish me to ask him to do?" I asked quietly.

"Ask him to beg our king for forgiveness.
If Kilgannon publicly recants and gives us the information we require, I am in a position to make his situation much easier, which, I am sure, would please you."

Beg for forgiveness, I thought. A flash of memory came, of Alex standing in Robert's house four years ago, telling me that he loved me but could not beg me to love him in return. "I do not beg," he'd said, and I'd believed him. I looked up at DeBroun's impassive face.

"And if he will not?" I asked. DeBroun shrugged. "Will you give him the same sort of trial you gave Murdoch Maclean?"

"Maclean has no land and no title. He is of no consequence."

"No consequence. Murdoch Maclean is of no consequence."

"None. Your husband, however, has both land and tide. We will try him publicly very soon. Unless he recants now."

"I see." I paused while I struggled for control. "Sir, the prisoners were promised trial under Scottish law. I beg you to return my husband to
Scotland
for his trial."

"That is out of my control," he said, the subject obviously dismissed. "You are in a position to change your husband's mind, madam. I have tried, but he is reluctant to accept my offer. Change his mind. It is not the goal of the court to be so very harsh that we instigate in Scotland any feeling of resentment."

I tried to keep my tone mild. "Then your court is tardy, sir. You are already the targets of resentment."

DeBroun's eyes narrowed. "In what manner are we too tardy?"

"I can only speak from my own experience, sir. In Scotland the people are understandably resentful, but I have been surprised to find that many people in England are also unhappy with the situation. Even tonight I have been told so. The reprisals have been very harsh and the barbarity of the treatment of Scottish civilians has aroused popular sentiment. Even English popular sentiment, sir. Your court only adds fuel to that fire, and I would ask you, on behalf of all the prisoners, to declare an amnesty for those now in custody. It is the most prudent course. Or, at the very least, return them to
Scotland
for their trials."

He watched me for a moment, his expression unreadable. Then he straightened his back and spoke in a patronizing tone. "Madam, of course you hold such views. But consider. Those who joined the rebellion committed treason. This cannot go unpunished. Many of those imprisoned are English, and we will be harsher with them than with the Scots."

Of course you will be, I thought.
To
assume the Scots to be by nature unruly and dangerous. The English rebels are the true traitors. Theirs is the worse crime, for they know better. I swallowed my anger as he continued.

"I urge you to visit your husband, to convince him. If he were to have a sudden change of heart, it would go far easier upon him. If he could give us information on the remaining rebels, his situation would be much simpler to discuss with the other judges. If he were to recant, it would be a simple matter to spare his life. May I assume, madam, that you will speak to your husband?"

I tried to keep my tone civil. "Sir, I thank you," I said, "and I am grateful to you for your information. I will certainly speak with my husband. I cannot, however, promise any change of heart on his part. He is a most determined man."

DeBroun's eyes were on my neckline again. "I entreat you, madam, to do what you can to alter his position."

We both turned as the door opened and Randolph walked into the room without knocking. I let out the breath I did not even know I was holding. "What's all this?" My uncle's tone was cheerful enough, but his smile did not extend to his eyes as he came to stand next to me, his hand comforting on my arm.

"Lord DeBroun wants me to ask Alex to recant and beg publicly for forgiveness, and to give whatever information he has on the whereabouts of any Jacobites who are not held prisoner," I said, as though I was telling him about the last dance we'd had.

Randolph nodded, then asked if DeBroun could reduce Alex's sentence.

"I will
endeavour
for that result in any event, sir, but it would be much simpler if I had information in return for leniency."

"There is a difficulty with your plan," Randolph said.

"And that is?"

"Everyone knows that James Stewart and the Earl of Mar and many of the others went to France. This is no secret."

DeBroun nodded. "That is what Kilgannon told us. But that is not our primary purpose in questioning him."

"You want the whereabouts of the rebels still in Scotland?"

"Exactly. They must be brought to justice."

"But, sir, you must know that Kilgannon would have no way to know where they are. He was captured shortly after the Stewart's flight and escorted to Edinburgh."

"Where he was housed with several men who have now escaped. We believe Kilgannon will know where to find them."

Randolph and I exchanged a look. This was news to both of us. "They escaped from the Tower?" Randolph asked.

DeBroun shook his head. "No. They were held in Edinburgh and escaped from there. With assistance, of course. We believe Kilgannon will know where to find these men, or will be able to persuade Murdoch Maclean to tell us." Randolph drummed his fingers on his chin as he regarded DeBroun, who continued in that same quiet tone. "We are seeking Duncan Maclean. And Joseph MacDonald and Alexander MacDonell."

Joseph MacDonald and Alexander MacDonell. Both brave men that Alex knew well. And Duncan, Murdoch's brother. One of our dearest friends. Alex might indeed have an idea where they would be, since each man's clan bordered Kilgannon land, and since he knew Duncan so well. Alex was being asked to betray them to gain his own freedom. My heart sank. Alex would never
do it
.

"Lord DeBroun," Randolph said, his tone mild, "it is unlikely that Kilgannon would have this information. Even if some of the men had talked about their plans in Edinburgh, it is obvious that they know Kilgannon is here. They will have changed whatever they might have discussed with him for fear that he would do
exactly
what you are asking him to do. Any prudent man would. It is more likely that they are tucked away in France than that they would continue to endanger themselves by staying in occupied
Scotland
."

I knew Randolph was wrong but I kept my silence. If he knew he was wrong he did a wonderful job of disguising it. Duncan and the others would never run away now. They would take to the heather and try to hold their clans together. I knew the type well.

Edgar DeBroun was studying Randolph. "Then it is most unfortunate, sir, that he does not have this information."

My uncle spread his hands. "Can you not think of another way than for him to deliver information which he does not have? Can we, perhaps, further his cause in another manner?"

DeBroun shook his head. "None occurs to me, sir, nor to the other judges, especially in light of
Kilgannon’s
dismissal of my suggestion that he throw himself on the king's mercy. His answer was most inappropriate. And unfortunate for his cause. Indeed, two of the judges, after hearing what Kilgannon called us, are adamant that he and all the rebels be put to death immediately as a deterrent to others of their kind. I have been arguing for a simple hanging rather than the traditional traitor's death. Unless something changes, I think that would be as merciful as we could be in these circumstances." I gasped and Randolph tightened his arm around me while DeBroun leaned toward me, his expression distressed. "I apologize, madam. I forgot you were listening. I will arrange for you to see your husband tomorrow."

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